Shrouded Nights
by xxlostdreamerxz
Summary: Morfin Gaunt deposits his halfblood son, Hadrian, on his nephew's doorstep. Tom raises Harry fic. AU
1. A Hiss in the Night

**Shrouded Nights**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Summary:** Morfin Gaunt leaves his newborn bastard, Hadrian, on his nephew's doorstep.

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Hiss in the Night**

* * *

Morfin Gaunt pressed the bundle against his chest in a halfhearted attempt to shield it from the elements as he trudged towards the decaying, gray shack. He rapped his knuckles loudly against the door and waited. At first he could hear nothing but the sound of his own harsh, raspy breaths…but then, there. He heard and then caught sight of a large, vicious serpent slithering towards him.

He released a mad little hiss. "Take me to your master, worm," he ordered.

The snake shifted hesitantly, before dipping her head in acquiescence. "Follow me," she hissed, ducking behind a low, worn fence, of which the wizard promptly blasted to shreds. She then led them to the backdoor, which was shrouded by vines.

For the first time that night, Morfin shifted uncertainly.

With a strangely careful air, he placed the bundle on the doorstep. Almost as an afterthought, he shifted back the blanket and stared at his son's face. Familiar feelings of disgust, madness, and…a twisted sort of fondness…welled up inside of him.

"Goodbye Hadrian," he hissed, meeting his son's sleepy, emerald green eyes. And with those last words, he pounded loudly on the backdoor, grinning wildly as he heard someone curse inside. Just as the door slammed open, Morfin met his nephew's surprised gaze and offered him a vicious, toothy smirk before apparating away.

After all, his mistake, his dirty little halfblood son would undoubtedly be happier with his dead sister's bastard.

* * *

Cursing softly under his breath, Tom stared down at the gurgling bundle with mixed emotions_. __**It **was rather ugly - _all baby fat and pudgy limbs - _but undeniably of Slytherin descent. _Those bright, clear green eyes with hints of gold clearly marked the boy as kin. The boy had to be Morfin's bastard and most likely a half-blood at that; it was the only reasonable explanation as to why Gaunt would choose to dispose of his only heir in such a manner.

Tom's eyes darkened in disgust. He should have gone through with his plan and framed his uncle for the murder of the Riddles.

If only he hadn't_ slipped up. _

Before he'd even really gotten started on torturing the Riddles, Tom had caught the telltale cracks of apparition and quickly AK'ed his family. He didn't know who had tipped them off, but a whole squad of Aurrors had arrived on site to investigate. He was completely surrounded and was hesitant about fighting his way out. Anti-apparition wards had come down and though Tom was sure he could escape unscathed, he was not ready to shed his facade as Tom Riddle, the model student, and don on the one as Lord Voldemort. He was still too young and far from experienced enough to stand alone against the wizarding world and _win. _He had plans and he refused to allow them to unravel before his very eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Tom had prepared to fight.

However, before he was forced to take drastic measures, his mad uncle had shown up...and had began driving the Aurrors into a frenzy with his hissing. For a split second, the man met Tom's gaze and..._winked before giggling madly with delight. _

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Tom escaped completely undetected.

He hadn't even looked back to see what had become of his uncle. It wasn't any of his business after all.

Tom hadn't expected to see the crazy Gaunt ever again.

And he had never even considered in his wildest nightmares of having a newborn cousin thrust into his life...

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tom awkward bent down and lifted the bundle off the ground. He wasn't so cruel that he would allow his own blood-related, magical that is, cousin to die in the cold, freezing rain. He would give the brat shelter for the night and come morning he would drop off the little menace at a magical orphanage.

And then he'd completely wash his hands of the brat.

However, unknown to him, the moment Tom crossed his threshold with his cousin a rune activated on the boy's skin...

A rune that signified _adoption. _

Formal, uncontested, _blood_ adoption.

The Riddle family had, at that very second, gained a new member...

* * *

**TBC...**

**A/N:** I hope you guys all liked it! I've had this idea floating about in my head for awhile and I just had to get it out on paper. I know that I made Tom a bit OC but I figured he would be a tad less homicidal and a bit more sane since he hadn't created his horocrux yet. Plus, I need him to start caring for Harry later on as the plot develops so I can't exactly let him be an evil, calculating sociopath. I am hoping to actually plan out and outline this fic before I start writing it. This way I won't make the same mistakes that I did in DT and Icy Destiny and get completely sidetracked and confused since each of my chapters seemed to be like a mini-story.

Anyways, on a completely unrelated note. I'll FINALLY be graduating from college in approximately 2 weeks! I've missed fanfic a ton and would definitely like to get back into writing now that I'll actually have some time to myself & no deadlines hanging over my head. If I can, I will definitely try to update DT and Icy Destiny something within this month or next. I feel really bad for making you guys (the ones who have actually stayed with me all these years) wait so insanely long for an update. I know I'm pretty bad at keeping promises when it comes to updates, but I will try! If I don't succeed, at least I will update for sure sometime this summer. I'm really really blessed that so many of my readers have stuck by me after all my stunts and disappearances. I promise I'll try to be more accountable in the future.

But for the time being, PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. The Decision

**Shrouded Nights  
**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own HP.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Decision **

_The kindest soul is often the most selfish. _

* * *

He stood impassively over the happily gurgling bundle on the couch, wand clenched tightly between his fist, as he surveyed the gently glowing rune with mounting fury. His breaths came out in harsh, deep intervals as he fought to reign in his temper. The rune, with its three characters bound together by a conjoined glyph and a rare horizontal stroke, had the potential to destroy _everything_ for him. All of his plans, all of his goals...

Icy blue eyes darkened with disgust.

The rune bound his life force to his cousin's until the boy came into his full magical inheritance at sixteen. It created a magical link between them, so that whatever happens to one would happen to the other. Injure one, both would feel the pain with equal potency. Kill one, both would die.

Gaunt, the madman, had planned everything perfectly. He _knew_ his nephew's weakness, _knew_ that the boy feared death more than anything in the world. So by linking his son's fate with his nephew's, Gaunt had essentially ensured that his child would be well cared for until he was old enough to fend for himself.

Tom leashed his anger, refusing to inflict it on the cheerfully ignorant child on the couch, knowing that it would be essentially end up being a case of self-mutilation. Gritting his teeth, he turned away from the child and began pacing.

The boy, Hadrian, was a weakness, one that he couldn't afford to let out of his sight. And yet, it would hardly do to acknowledge such a blatant weakness in public. He was still in his 7th year and months away from graduating. The last thing he wanted was to parade Hadrian under Dumbledore's large, overgrown nose.

_That_ would be akin to slapping a bullseye on himself and giving his Transfiguration professor a bow and arrow.

Tom's lips curled in disgust. _Definitely, _not happening.

Of all people, Dumbledore was the only one who knew his true potential...knew what he could become in time. And Tom knew that Dumbledore, whilst still heartbroken over destroying Grindelwald, would have no qualms about destroying his most hated student and imminent Dark Lord, especially if the price _as little_ as killing another heir of Slytherin.

Minutes slowly grew as Tom paced, idly spinning his wand between his fingers. He hadn't wanted to resort to _this_, as it had been his final, last-ditch plan...but there simply was no other probable solution.

He would have to leave Hogwarts early.

Though he had indeed planned for such an event, it had been simply been a backup plan, one that he'd stuffed in the back of his mind as a hypothetical possibility...not as a reality. Tom had never genuinely believed that he would be forced to use it.

The plan consisted of him faking his own death and staging it so that it would summarily destroy the credibility and reputation of the only wizard with the potential to stand against him, Dumbledore. But like all plans, it came at a very steep price.

He could afford no loose ends.

By faking his death, he would lose _everything_. None of his followers or beneficiaries could be informed and all of his spy networks had to be silenced. He would have to essentially destroy himself to break free.

Tom bit his lip and looked down. It was...such a waste...sacrificing everything that he'd accomplished over the past seventeen years. But the crux of the matter was that while he could always obtain more followers and reestablish himself as a leader, he could not defeat death. So he would do as he'd planned.

Sacrifice everything to regain control.

And Hadrian, his blasted cousin, would remain by his side. Tom would train him, help him grow, only because it would serve his own needs. After all, the stronger the boy was, the less likely of a weakness he would be.

Tom rubbing his temples in frustration, he returned to Hadrian's side. Awkwardly, he reached down and picked up the bundle...

_It was time to begin the preparations._

_**TBC**_

* * *

**Note: **Well, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it even though it was a bit on the short side.

**Please review! **


	3. The Caretaker

**Shrouded Nights**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Caretaker **

* * *

"Hadrian," he stated, awkwardly holding the milk bottle out to the child who was staring at him with large, placid green eyes. Feeling out of his element, Tom straightened his back and loomed over the gurgling bundle, shifting the bottle closer. "Drink," he ordered, in the same commanding tone that often reduced his Death Eaters into fearful, trembling lumps, as he _willed_ the child to obey.

But instead, a chubby, wayward hand knocked the bottle to the floor...

Tom's eye ticked in fury as he wandlessly summoned the bottle. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at the uncooperative child.

"You _will_ drink," he hissed.

The child stuck out his tongue and made a poor attempt at hissing, accidentally spitting in his caretaker's face. Giggling, he reached out and attempted to pet the man's hair.

Tom felt his already frayed temper snap.

Even before consciously processing his actions, Tom had already reached out and shoved the nuzzle of the milk bottle into the child's mouth. Holding the boy's nose, he squeezed on the bottle and forced the boy to swallow…

Only to suddenly feel strangely lightheaded within seconds.

Disgusted, Tom let go and turned away, purposefully ignoring the loud, shrill screams coming from the frightened child and the spilled milk on the couch. His fingers clenched as he resisted the urge to literally strangle the life out of the annoying little monster…

He couldn't do this.

He _wouldn't. _

It didn't matter if his life was magically tied to his cousin. He was _Lord Voldemort_ and,Merlin be damned_, _he would not play nursemaid for an unknown brat. He had no family and had no _need _for a family. He had grown up alone and had become _strong_ on his own terms. He had _earned it_; everything he had accomplished thus far, and though it left a bitter taste in his mouth at what he was being forced to sacrifice, Tom was smart enough to know that he had no other options.

After all, when it came down to it, he simply did not trust his followers.

It was one thing for them to _fear _him and to _obey _him; it another for them to remain loyal in the face of such a blatant weakness. The Death Eaters followed him because he was the strongest one of the pack; the only one who was cruel enough and talented enough to succeed.

By bringing a child into the fray, he would essentially be painting a large bullseye on both of their backs. Even if he denied their relation, his Death Eaters would view the child as a target...one that they could use to rise up in the ranks and bring their leader to his knees. Even as they served, heads bowed reverently, Tom could _see _their memories and he knew without a doubt how bloodthirsty they were and how ready they would be to tear him to shreds so that they could take his place.

He had never been afraid of his followers, viewing their power plays with amusement. After all, he _knew_ that they'd never be able to take him down. But that had been _before_ Hadrian had been dumped on his doorstep, before his fate had become inexplicably linked with a newborn's.

Tom hated this...hated feeling _weak._

Shaking his head in disgust, Tom proceeded to grab a worn leather knapsack, shove a scarf into it before promptly heading out towards the very edge of his property. He refused to allow the status quo to stand. He needed to find someone trustworthy enough who was qualified to care for and protect the boy.

The moment he left the protection of his wards, Tom Apparated away.

* * *

Moments later, Tom landed in a worn, dirty meadow that was littered with small, gangly figures who were interchangeably muttering under their breath one second and sobbing their eyes out the other. They were all stretched out pathetically on the ground, their thin-bony figures accentuated by their _clothing,_ and all possessed the trademark large, tennis ball eyes characteristic of their species.

This desolate location was known, popularly, as the Meadow of Disgrace.

It was the place where abandoned house-elves, the unfortunate ones who had lost the will to live, went to perish. The House-elves that had been punished with _clothes_ and, because of their actions, had become shunned by their brethren.

While house-elves were naturally loyal to their owners, a _disgraced_ house-elf was even more loyal. After all, having experienced the brunt of abandonment, they would do _anything _in their power to prevent it from happening again. Even at the cost of their own lives, disgraced house-elves did _not_ fail.

However, despite their use...few if any people were willing to take them in.

After all, most of the _disgraced_ had been owned by dark-wizards and had often been tortured prior to being given clothes. They was a very dark sight to take in and Tom doubted any Light wizard would have been able to stomach the sight, much less deal with such blatantly painful disfigurements and missing limbs on a daily basis.

Knowing that he had the attention of all the house-elves in the meadow, Tom raised his voice. "I need an elf who has experience with children, particularly newborns."

Instantly approximately a dozen or so elves crawled over to him, bowing pathetically at his feet, and stuttering their qualifications.

Carefully studying each one of the elves, Tom silently dismissed five or so instantly due to their lack of limbs and locomotive ability. Turning his attention on the remaining seven elves, his eyes sharpened as he took in the sight of a single, matronly elf kneeling quietly at his feet. The_ only_ elf who had yet to speak.

"Elf, what is your name," he demanded, motioning towards her.

The matronly elf lowered her head in shame, her large green eyes bright with tears as she opened her mouth and revealed her lack of tongue. It was simply impossible for her to speak a word.

Tom frowned, knowing that _that_ was the usual punishment for an elf who had been caught spreading their master's secrets. Tapping his fingers thoughtfully, he decided that there were benefits to having a mute house elf; after all, even the most trusted servant could be coerced into giving up secrets…but one who was simply unable to speak could undeniably lower the risk of exposure.

"You can take care of children?"

The elf nodded, her pitiful form shaking with nerves. She made rocking motions with her arms and raised nine of her fingers.

"Human children?"

The elf smiled and nodded vigorously, repeating the rocking motions with her arms.

Tom stared down at the elf, taking in her worn flour-bag dress and a single, large human sized glove on her hand. "Very well," he said, turning away to reach into his knapsack to pull out a dark, green scarf.

"Bind yourself to me," he said coldly.

The matronly elf's eyes glowed with joy for the first time since their meeting and she reached out and placed her hand on Tom's scarf. There was a soft, gentle flash of light and a burst of heat...and it was _done. _She carefully discarded her previous master's large, human-sized glove on the ground before turning to stare at Tom with large, adoring eyes.

Tom frowned, but remained silent.

"Come," he said finally. "I will show you who your charge will be for the next couple of years."

**TBC**

* * *

Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a **Review! **


End file.
